A Mother’s Grief

Grieving is a personal experience. Depending on who you are and the nature of your loss, your process of grieving will be different from another person’s. There is no “normal and expected” period of time for grieving. Some people take a year or more, particularly when their daily life has been radically changed by traumatic and unexpected loss.

On May 10, 2011, I lost my remarkable son Anthony to a tragic accident. He was 23 years old. I am writing this only two months after this horrifying experience.

Words cannot describe the immense pain felt by a parent who loses a child. As a bereaved parent, you realize that your life will never be the same … never. Your life has suddenly taken an unexpected course that appears and feels unknown, unsure and endless; that is called grief.

There are some wonderful support groups for parents. I attended my first one just three weeks after Anthony’s death. It’s called Compassionate Friends. The people here are experiencing the same type of pain that I am, although our journeys are different.

I realize that my tears are a way to be gentle and loving to myself and they should be honored as precious tender drops of love and remembrance of my son Anthony. Really feeling all this pain is the first step in the grieving process and my way through the first 12 months. Until the pain is felt deeply, with every moment and the loss is truly acknowledged, it is not possible to move on to celebrating the life of your loved one. So with that being expressed, I let the tears come.

The grieving process gives us time to reflect and find new strength that enables us to continue life’s journey and regain some peace of mind. I have recognized that grieving and its stresses seem tolerable, with loving self-care habits. It helps to have a close circle of loving family and friends. It also helps to have proper nourishment for your body — a nutritious, balanced diet with plenty of raw vegetables, plenty of nourishing water and non-alcoholic fluids, exercise or some type of movement for the body and plenty of rest. I’ve learned to not say I can’t do something because of this traumatic, awful life experience … this is not easy, but it is a necessity.

Most people are unprepared for grief because so often, tragedy strikes suddenly, without warning. If excellent loving self-care habits are part of your life, it will help you deal with the pain and shock of loss until the last stage of grief, which is acceptance, is reached. I am walking the path on this journey and not sure where it will take me, but one thing that is clear in my mind is that loving others and myself is the only path I can walk down, knowing I am not alone.

Some supportive suggestions and thoughts

Birthdays

Birthdays are a celebration of the day your child became a precious gift to the world. My son’s birthday, June 16, was five weeks after his death. My family and I did several things to honor him and help our healing.

1. Light a candle: A mother’s bond of love with her child can never be broken. Lighting a candle on my son’s birthday was very healing. I used a battery-operated candle to illuminate the entire day.

2. Attend a religious service on your child’s birthday: We did this, and it was also very healing.

3. Celebrate: My daughter Sarah and I recently set aside special time on Anthony’s birthday. We got on the Internet/webcam and made his favorite dessert together. My parents and sister’s family (both out of state) had a special dinner together with a birthday cake for Anthony.

Mother’s Day

Traditionally a day of celebration, Mother’s Day can be a day of pain and loss for mothers who have lost a child. Below are some tips for remembering those moms who have had an unsuccessful pregnancy or have lost a child of any age.

1. Acknowledge that she is a mother: Offer a hug and kiss, and wish her a happy Mother’s Day. Send a card to let her know you remember she’s a mother, even though her child is not physically with her. A mother’s bond of love with her child can never be broken.

2. Acknowledge her loss: Express/connect and share the message, “I know this is difficult day for you. I want you to know that I am thinking about you.”

3. Use her child’s name in conversation: When family and friends talk about my son, Anthony, it’s like music to my ears. I love talking, listening and sharing special moments with others.

4. Plant a living memorial: A perennial flower, tree or rose bush — like memories — will grow in beauty.

5. Light a candle: Let the mother know you will light a candle in memory of her child.

6. Share a memory or pictures of the child: Give the gift of a memory. One mother wrote that the “greatest gift you can give is a heartfelt letter about my child and a favorite memory of them.”

7. Don’t try to minimize the loss: Avoid using any clichés that attempt to explain the death of a child.

8. Encourage self-care: Self-care is an important aspect of the effort to heal the mind and spirit. Encourage a grieving mother to take care of herself. Give her a gift certificate to a day spa or any place where she can be pampered. Right after Anthony’s death, it took all my energy simply to shower and put on mascara.

While the above suggestions are intended for Mother’s Day, they can be helpful for grieving mothers any day of the year.

My love goes out to all women who experience this pain. We are connected, and we are loved.

Robin Legittino is a certified holistic nutritional consultant and NASM-certified personal trainer. She served in the United States Marine Corps and is the mother of two children and the grandmother of one.

Pregnancy, Children and Food Choices

I remember receiving a card at my baby shower celebrating the “eating for two” shared belief in our culture. It was all about nine months of indulgence with the message: “If you’re going to be gaining weight, you might as well have some chocolate cake and ice cream to show for it.”

There has been a wide range of studies showing that kids are more likely to be overweight or “sugar-holics” if their parents, particularly their mothers, are. Many of these studies have based their conclusions on the role mothers play in selecting foods for the household and in building awareness of good nutrition within the family.

Born with a sweet tooth?
I was fascinated to discover a new study that discovered the food women eat while pregnant and breastfeeding helps to determine specific neural pathways in the developing brain, and later, lifetime eating habits for their precious children. For example, once the neural pathway is connected to “sweet = soothing,” it can take some committed practice to break that association.

As the child grows, we have a variety of opportunities to further influence their taste preferences. When we reward or bribe children with food, we set up a pattern in the brain that wires it to believe food makes everything better … a cure-all. If you reward children with sweets, snacks and desserts, they quickly learn to associate these foods with feeling better. Food can distract an unhappy child, in the moment, offering instant gratification. As adults, we have learned that our lives are not that simple and we cannot find instant gratification in food.

When you get right down to the driving force, overeating is a search for security – a need to recreate the secure feelings we experience as children when we were held and fed, when life felt easy. By eating foods similar to the foods we ate as children, we are looking to find the feeling in food but it’s a search that often ends in excess weight linked to a whole list of health-comprising ailments.

At the dinner table, keeping lines of communication open to let your children know you are there for them when they want to talk. Some families choose to use sharing dinner together as a time to open up about what you feel most grateful for that day. This can be a wonderful way to focus on the positive and bring in great feelings around sharing food together. Encouraging children to help with dinner preparation puts them in closer contact with making food taste delicious.

Modeling a healthy relationship with food is an excellent way to encourage healthy eating choices in your children. Children certainly take note of parents’ eating habits! Notice what you are saying about food choices, preparation and especially about your body. One of my clients was deeply concerned when she noticed her 4-year-old’s preoccupation with weighing herself, repeating what she’s heard her mommy say too many times – “I’m so fat” – as she stepped off the scale.

Mothers may influence children’s brains during all developmental stages, but as a hypnotherapist, I am very happy to let you know we can still positively influence the brain structure any time we choose. New research in neuroscience shows that, while some brains may have developed in a less than ideal manner, applying neuroplasticity and hypnotic principles to help redevelop our brains is powerful and effective. (Neuroplasticity is the ability of the brain to form new connections and change its structure in response to experience.) 

Johanna Lynn, a hypnotherapist, offers an inside out approach to truly love your body. Born with a natural curiosity about why people do what they do, Johanna now finds the entire field of mind/body medicine fascinating, with a clinical hypnosis practice focusing on healing with the intention to return to health and vitality.

Photo credit: Manuel

Raising Confident Sons Who Have Respect for Others

A while ago, I was rushing up the street, carrying groceries and my briefcase, barely closed from all I had stuffed inside it, trying not to be late to pick up my daughter from basketball practice. One of her classmates, 13-year-old Damien, was walking from school toward me. I’d known Damien and his family for years, as part of a study I was conducting on boys and moms.

“Can I help you with that?” he asked in a concerned voice.

Although the bag was tearing from the weight of its contents and the awkward way I was holding it, his question almost made me drop everything completely. People were meandering in both directions, and no one else noticed that I was struggling, but Damien saw in one glance that I needed help and immediately offered it. He took my grocery bag and walked back up to school with me. When I thanked him, he just smiled politely, said it wasn’t a problem, waved and continued off down the street.

Until fifth grade, he wore his hair short and he dressed in nothing but jeans and T-shirts. Even after he let his hair grow long in sixth grade and wore red bandannas like the Hells Angels, he didn’t let anybody’s idea of what was “girlish” affect his behavior. In the school’s annual musical, Damien stole the show with his theatrical poise and warm response to the loud applause from the audience. His onstage theatrics – a very liberating experience for boys – did nothing to prevent him from being the first out on the play yard at recess for kickball, running successfully for class representative to the student council, or being a sometimes goofy but articulate class participant.

I call children like Damien “head and heart boys.” Years of research on families and parenting have shown me how successful moms raise self-assured and caring sons by nurturing their boy power – the artful combination of physicality and sensitivity to others’ needs and feelings. To help your son grow up with confidence and respect for others:

1. Help him develop a strong sense of well-being and sensitivity to the needs and feeling of others.

Talk and talk and talk with (not at) your son, and then talk some more. As boys discover they are worthy of respect and understanding, they learn to respect and empathize with others. Encourage your son to recognize how he feels and show it, whether the feeling is good or bad. Talk with him about what may be making him feel that way. Learning about his own feelings can help your son connect with others and develop into a caring, sensitive man.

Boys tend to shy away from face-to-face discussions. Connect with him in any way you can, anywhere you can. Use toys to prompt discussion. One mom uses puppets with her young son to talk about events in their lives. Initiate conversations in the car, on the basketball court or in the kitchen while cooking together. Despite feeling tired at the end of her workday, one mom began playing basketball with her teenage son because he seemed withdrawn. She expected it to be all dribble and shoot, but when they started playing, her son opened up, sharing his thoughts and feelings about school and home.

Listen to what your son tells you – or doesn’t tell you. Look for messages even in silence or outbursts. Listening – not just to the words, but to the feelings behind them – can reveal the kind of mothering your son needs to help him become a man.

Ten-year-old Caleb struggled with being small for his age. During hide-and-seek, he and his mom brainstormed about the advantages of being small, like finding a really good place to hide. Since people underestimated his superior athletic abilities, he had a secret weapon. Later, when a cousin said he was small for his age, Caleb easily listed all the good things about being small!

And while you’re talking, repeatedly share your own values, including consciously challenging gender and other stereotypes, even when your son seems to tune out.

2. Foster his respect for others.

Respect for ourselves feeds our respect for others. So accept who he is, instead of trying to mold him into your vision of what you think he should be.

You can encourage him to be responsible to himself by helping him set his own goals and expectations, and then live up to them. He will also learn responsibility to others by doing his share of household chores and other age-appropriate duties.

Establish clear guidelines for behavior and expectations for how family members and others are treated. Helping your son relate well to family and friends will help him become a reflective, conscious, centered adult with a strong sense of identity and moral fiber.

3. Help him find a variety of good role models, both men and women.

Start with yourself and other moms you know. His respect for you and other women friends teaches him respect for women. He learns such qualities as patience by observing patience in you and others. As his mom, model the kind of strength and heroism commonly associated with men. Your power, leadership, determination and ability to achieve set a strong personal example for your son. Knowing women he can emulate helps erase culturally ingrained gender stereotypes.

Boys benefit by having many role models, so whether there’s a father at home or not, actively recruit men as friends and role models for your son. In addition to men in the family, look for babysitters, tutors, coaches and Big Brothers who can play this role. Sports superstars, fictional characters like Harry Potter and other heroes also give boys a range of men to emulate.

One mom makes sure her five-year-old son, Cody, interacts with males as much as possible. “When I’m with my brothers-in-law or nephews, [I say], ‘You guys, take him to the bathroom,’ or ‘You guys, go do guy things.’” Strong mothers give their sons a range of models for manhood.

4. Stay connected. Learning to value intimacy and close relationships will help him succeed with a future wife or partner.

Don’t buy into fear of being too close to your son, no matter what his age. Closeness and conversation lead to a natural and lifelong intimacy between mother and son. This means frequently stepping out of your comfort zone to meet his needs, including roughhousing and playing with your son any way you can. Encourage physical and emotional expressions of affection at home even when he tries to push you away. (In public allow him any space he requires.) Adapt the ways you connect with your son to stay close as he grows intellectually, emotionally and physically.

As he grows, you can help him lead a double-life on the emotional front. If he is standoffish in public, he can still enjoy the mothering he secretly still craves in the privacy of home. Allowing boys to show their soft, vulnerable side with you keeps those emotions alive. As your son grows older, be sure to keep the dialogue open even when you don’t agree with his choices.

The deep emotional connection between mothers and sons has been demonized for far too long. Just as your son has inherent boy power, you have the mom power it takes to raise a son who is self-assured and respectful of others. By nurturing his emotional IQ, teaching him to care for others, providing him with positive role models and staying close to him as he grows up, you can give him what he needs to become a confident, empathic person and an exceptional man.

For more by this author, visit: PeggyDrexler.com.

Photo credit: Ed Yourdon

Talking To Kids About Cancer

Six weeks ago, totally out of the blue, I was diagnosed with incurable metastatic bone disease. My spine and pelvis were apparently riddled with tumors that were the cause of my recent backache. At 38 and as the active mother of two very young children, I had put it down to a pulled muscle from making up the top bunk bed. I’m an elementary school teacher, too, so I have loads of opportunities to pull weird muscles chasing (or dancing with) kids. And loads of reasons for “forgetting” about them, expecting them to go away of their own accord.

Within minutes, my husband and I were wondering: “How the hell do we tell the children this?” Our two are ages 7 and 4, utterly incredible (of course) and really close to us. We have always made a point out of being honest with our kids, even about the difficult stuff, but somehow this one seemed insurmountable. So we did a lot of soul-searching and rehearsal. Literally. Practiced being the kids hearing bits of information and putting two and two together to make 42. Making sense out of the fragments we had was almost impossible for us, let alone for my little boy, whose tiny hands still stroke my cheek to wake me in the morning. It took a while, but we came up with a plan.

The fact that we only had a partial diagnosis initially was helpful, because it enabled us to stagger the news we shared. This allowed the children to process the information in little bits and think of questions. Realistically, they followed our lead and were calm, factual and positive, because we were.

At first, we just explained what would affect them: that we had to cancel our family vacation this summer because the doctors wanted to try and work out why my back wasn’t getting better. As we always flew to the States for the summer, this would be their first in England, and we’d try to do lots of fun things closer to home. They were devastated about cancelling the trip to Grandma and Grandpa’s but quickly understood that we’d go next summer and that perhaps they could come to us soon.

A few days later, while we were all curled up reading books, we stopped to explain that the doctors had discovered that there was a disease in my backbones that had started somewhere else in my body, but we didn’t know where yet. We were clear that no one had given it to me and no one could catch it from me. As kids are so drilled about “Coughs and sneezes spread diseases,” we thought this last bit was particularly important.

Then I got out a chocolate bar called an Aero (I’m sure there must be some equivalent in the States; it’s chocolate-filled with bubbles but smooth on the outside). I explained that a bone is a bit like the chocolate bar. The outside looks smooth and hard, but when you look inside, it’s made up of little bubbles.

“If the bubbles were bigger, how would it taste?”

“Not so chocolatey.”

“Would it be stronger or more crumbly if the bubbles were bigger?”

“It would break more, or bits would cave in.”

So then, of course, we explained that my bone was like the bar, but in places there were bigger bubbles growing because of the disease. That was making the bones delicate and painful. Then they got to eat the bar, but I wasn’t allowed any.

“But Mummy loves chocolate!” my daughter protested. We went on to explain that there were certain foods that would make my back worse, and some that would make it better. Simply speaking, white foods were out, and rainbow foods were in — especially green foods. We listed all the white foods we could think of: sugar, milk, ice cream, flour, rice, pasta, mashed potatoes, white sauce. Then we went into the kitchen and introduced other things I could have instead: agave, almond milk, wild rice or spelt, yams. No decent alternative to béchamel sauce yet. They loved tasting everything and made their preference clear (agave=yum, wheatgrass= yeurgh!).

As my juicing and vegan diet reached into our days, they became engaged with exploring all sorts of flavors. The spiralizer is a great favorite, and they love the carrot-zucchini spaghetti — who wouldn’t? We grow a lot of our own produce, so juice inventions have become a daily game. Beet, black currant and red grape; watercress and kiwi; carrot, pineapple and ginger; spinach and apple were all quickly popular (actually, only I liked the watercress and kiwi one, but I like it enough for everyone else put together!). We tried to juice like colors together to keep the end product bright and appealing; that really helped. The children felt empowered to help be a part of my healing through diet and are learning a lot about what goes into their own bodies as a result.

Our chickens love the pulp, so the kids are delighted to give the vitamins to them, too.

We still hadn’t used the word “cancer” yet because we didn’t know whether they had any prior knowledge of the word, and we certainly didn’t want to confuse the issue when we were still trying to build their understanding of what we were facing. But now it was time.

I had a few biopsies taken, and the nurse put stars over the incisions so that the kids would be proud of me. They were, and they kindly kissed each spot better just as I would have done for them! When the results came through, we got both children into the big bed with us and explained that Mummy’s disease had a starting place now, and a name. The name was “cancer;” had they heard of that before? Our daughter, who’s 7, had heard about it but didn’t know anything about it. Our son looked blank.

We explained that there are hundreds of types of cancer, and everyone’s story is different. If they saw or heard anything about cancer, they could ask us, but they shouldn’t think it was anything to do with my story just because it shared the same name. We felt this was particularly important because children could easily say, “My Grandma died of cancer” or “Cancer makes your hair fall out,” and we wanted information to come from us, not the playground. This conversation was something we had anguished over, but they heard it and then said “OK. Can we read some books now?”

Throughout these weeks, they have had very few questions. But they also have had very little anxiety. I think striking the balance between pace and pitch is so important. Small chunks of information spread several days apart helped them process and feel part of the learning curve along with us. We are empowered in the face of this diagnosis and are riding the tsunami rather than swept away by it. They are along for the ride, too.

Last week, I had radiotherapy. Beforehand, we talked about cough syrup. Who likes cough syrup? No one, right? It makes you feel horrid and sticky, and your mouth is all weird. Yuck! But then after a while, your cough’s gone, and you can go back to sleep and get well. So my medicine was going to be a bit like that. It would make me feel worse for a while and then better. Except that my “worse” would last a few days, even a week or so. But then my “better” would last longer, too. I wouldn’t have to take so many pills for the pain, and I’d be able to do more yoga and dancing with them again. Everyone’s a winner!

Now it’s September, and I’m not going back to teaching yet. The children are delighted that I’ll be walking them to school in the mornings, and I’ve let my friends at the school gates know that these times are CFC (cancer-free-conversation) times. Even when they’re just trying to show they care, it’s not the time. Walking to school is when my kids deserve my attention.

My cancer is omniscient but not a source of fear or anxiety for any of us. We will embrace this challenge like any other: as a loving, honest family unit. Talking often and openly.

Emily Evison is taking a year off from life as usual to create an anti-cancer lifestyle after her unexpected diagnosis. She lives in rural England with her husband, two children, six chickens and cat. They garden, craft, make music, play games and love life.

Tumors in Children: How One Family Thrives

I write this as I sit in an MRI room while my 8-year-old son Sami is scanned for the umpteenth time. Here we go – this is a big one. It is a follow-up scan from one just over a week ago. Enhancement. A possible brain tumor. All the other tumors are stable and I am told not to worry yet. This is not possible. But this is not where our story begins. It actually began in a doctor’s office three and a half years ago.

“Neurofibromatosis.” “Neurofibromatosis.” “Neurofibromatosis.” I make the doctor repeat this word numerous times when he informs me my son Sami will need to see a specialist to confirm the diagnosis of Neurofibromatosis (NF). In my mom panic, I blurt out, “It’s not serious, right?” The doctor replies, “It can be not serious.” Yet, just like all of you who spend time reading doctor’s faces – I know this is not good. On to the world wide web – ahhhh, confirmed – not good. Maybe, just maybe, Sami doesn’t have it? But the specialist later confirms NF at his diagnostic appointment. Our conversation basically plays out like this:

Me: What does this mean for my Sami?
Doctor: He will get tumors.
Me: Maybe he won’t.
Doctor: He will.
Me: Maybe he won’t.
Doctor: Yes, he will.
Me: Okay how many?
Doctor: Ten to thousands.

So there it is: no cure, no real treatment, no denying it, no possibility he will escape tumors. We leave the office a different family. What happens next? I imagine our story is similar to many people or families who receive a life-changing diagnosis. We fall down, get up, fall down, get up and live life. We change course.

Neurofibromatosis, in a nutshell, means your tumor suppressor does not properly function and every nerve cell in your body has the potential to become a tumor. It also presents a whole lot of other health issues. In our case, Neurofibromatosis also becomes our family’s catalyst for change. One personal change, for us, is nutrition. I jumped in all the way after reading everything I can on tumor prevention and we go raw. I will not lie: There is actual crying at the dinner table. I see three sad little faces (and a dad) all of who are trying to embrace a new raw lifestyle. So we scale back a bit and now eat primarily a plant-based diet and are conscious about our food choices.

My youngest son loves green juice, and drinks it and asks for it on a daily basis. After this MRI, though, we will take the big plunge and go to a completely plant-based diet and see if it has any impact on his tumor growth. We make the decision to eat real food, primarily plants. We start with small changes.

We also go to a summer family retreat. We spend time in the hills with monks, nuns and discover practicing meditation and compassion with other families is transformative to the soul. It helps us to be a bit more mindful in our lives. Moreover, our children shine so bright with all this compassionate attention focused on them. We become part of the NF community, which is also a change in our lives. We meet other families, doctors, researchers, organizers in the field and connect on boards. Knowledge and these types of connections are essential.

I end up becoming a fundraising mom – this is a really big change for me. Again, I jump right in head-first hoping, praying for a treatment before even one tumor shows up in our Sami. I enlist everyone; family, friends, neighbors, community. Even people at cocktail parties are recruited for big jobs. This leads to the creation of our group the Littlest Tumor Foundation and a new career for me with a lot of adventures and hard work. Sami and I even get to meet President Obama to speak about healthcare and NF.

Living MRI to MRI has lit a fire in our family and lent to our message which we share with the Littlest Tumor Foundation. Today there are few successful pediatric tumor treatments. This is unnecessary and we can do better. Simple. Just like our foundation, our goals are simple: We raise research dollars for innovative research, we promote and embrace wellness with our annual family retreat and we want the world to know about our cause.

As for our Sami, he becomes a brave soul. Tumors do indeed show up. He braves up for PET scans, MRIs, first opinions, second opinions, surgery, more MRIs and too many specialists to count. He does this all while continuing to be a truly joyful, happy child. (He does much better than his mom, in case you’re wondering).

So when the tumors do indeed show up it all becomes very real – or surreal – to this mother to be speaking to specialists and surgeons about the fast-growing mass in our child. Time to make the big grown-up decisions in life. It is not simple, as all the specialists and surgeons have differing opinions. So we arm ourselves with all possible information and make the decision to jump. We decide to operate and feel we have found truly the best surgeon on the planet to remove this tumor. Off we head to Chicago to operate, and for all of you who have been in these shoes, you know it feels so incredibly wrong. You put on a brave face and move forward. You slip in and out of the stages of grief: mad at everyone, sad, making deals with God. I finally settle on consciously focusing on envisioning him awaking from surgery. He does and asks if they got the tumor, then adding he’d like to see it so he can bring it to his science class, as he just knows his science teacher Miss Becky will want to see it.

So we survive this tumor and now watch others and continue on with our journey like so many others. Our Sami continues to keep us focused. He is essentially the heart and soul of our foundation. He is the spark that causes all these changes and many more. He is the reason we understand as we sit for hours at Children’s Hospitals: “Why not us?” One look around at the many children facing chronic and catastrophic health issues and its clear – why not us. But most importantly, he is the inspiration that makes us believe why not us be part of the NF solution.

Back to the MRI room, here I sit again, watching my sedated child in an MRI tube again, hoping he does not have a brain tumor. It all feels so crazy. So when I am asked if I have any ideas for other parents in this situation, I simply say: Fall down get up, fall down, get up, fall down, but get up. Small changes in nutrition and wellness could – and will be – huge in the long run. Lastly, join us: We are all in this together and we can channel this crazy life of tumors in our children into a solution.

Tracy Wirtanen runs the Littlest Tumor Foundation. Neurofibromatosis affects 1 in 3,000 and causes tumors to grow anywhere in the body including the brain and spine and can cause a series of other significant health issues. They range from serious skeletal abnormalities to learning issues to difficult to treat cancers. She invites everyone to come together around this extremely important issue to create change.